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(Antartica, April 11th, 2159 A.D.) |
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Cut was the tongue of lucidity |
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Solitude whispered deceit |
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Yet not sprung from lying tongues |
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Was the nausea that grew |
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As through unease reason unstrung |
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Horizons withered apace |
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The borders of my perception |
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Shrunk to ruins, crimson-tinged |
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As the empyrean crumbled down |
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From the universal frame unhinged |
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Rubescent spirals swelled |
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From burning ruptures aloft |
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Its eyes - its stare |
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I sense death in the breath of this impasse |
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Descending - revealing - from the flameborn coil |
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Undeniable - shapeshifting cold images of the past |
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Its eyes - its stare - a cold glance from the mirror to bear |
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Madness spat from the lookingglass - I sense death in the breath of this impasse |
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The empty footprints preceding me throughout my path unveil their secrecy |
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As in the second of his touch aeons of incarnations stirred much |
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"And the stars in the sky fell to earth, as late figs drop from a fig tree when shaken by a strong wind |
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The sky receded like a scroll, rolling up, and every mountain and every island was removed from its place |
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Then the kings of the earth, the princess, the generals, the rich, the mighty, and every slave and every free man |
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was consumed in the fire that fell from the heavens." |
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Flaming pyres compelled |
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The earth to shiver oft |
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Its eyes - its stare - a fatal glance for the world to bear |
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The chainreaction's verge of time was reached, rendering the world sublime |
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The stabiliser was withdrawn on the last breath of dying light |
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The beginning and ending of the chain are quenched in trite |
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Leaving the causal nexus with -termination- to coincide |